


I’m Owl Ears

by merrihael



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged up characters, Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Kisses, M/M, bokuto has a hard time and akaashi does his best to be there for him, engaged Bokuaka, owls in love, pick me up drabble after a long day, professional volleyball player Bokuto, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-23 01:37:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13776921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merrihael/pseuds/merrihael
Summary: It all gets too much sometimes: the physical strain on his body from the training and tournaments, the mental pressure of preforming well for his team and his team’s fans, dealing with nosy journalists that harass him for an interview at every occasion or the flashes of paparazzi cameras while he’s trying to enjoy his one day off with his fiancé. It’s all slowly slipping from Bokuto’s grasp, and he’s exhausted.ORDarling, you were never meant to be Atlas. Lay down the world for a moment. I promise you: it will not fall.





	I’m Owl Ears

**Author's Note:**

> Quick little pick-me-up drabble after a long day, enjoy!
> 
> You can come yell at me on Twitter: [@merrihael](https://twitter.com/merrihael)!

> _Darling, you were never meant to be Atlas. Lay down the world for a moment. I promise you: it will not fall._

 

It all gets too much sometimes: the physical strain on his body from the training and tournaments, the mental pressure of preforming well for his team and his team’s fans, dealing with nosy journalists that harass him for an interview at every occasion or the flashes of paparazzi cameras while he’s trying to enjoy his one day off with his fiancé. It’s all slowly slipping from Bokuto’s grasp, and he’s exhausted.

Moodswings have been his Achilles’ Heel since childhood. He may have learned how to control them for the most part, but his emotions still run wild every so often: and there’s nothing worse than an added emotional slump in the middle of an existing crisis.

Lady sniffs at his arm as it hangs off the side of the bed, grazing the floor. The pup associates Bokuto with playtime, because whenever he came home, it was the first thing he did after kissing Akaashi ‘hello’. But now he’s lying on his back on the bed, staring idly up at the ceiling… She’s rightfully confused. Bokuto forces himself to move and scoops Lady up into his arms - she’s so small, so warm… - and pets her as he continues to think. She lets out a little content noise, and before long, she’s nodding off, nuzzled into his chest.

Quitting is not an option: you don’t just quit the national team. A break… he’ll get a break in the off season, but that will still be filled with photoshoots and interviews and all that. He’ll always be in the public eye, no matter what he does. He has no idea how Oikawa, his teammate and setter, manages, and he’s an actor and a model on the side, while Bokuto wants to pack up and live on one of the Pacific Islands, far away from society.

Bokuto groans and rubs his eyes, waking Lady on accident. She squirms and scrambles off his chest, disappearing out the door with an annoyed huff. Bokuto watches her go, and feels even more alone. The weight resting on his shoulders bears down even more.

There’s a click as the front door opens, and Lady’s excited yapping fills the apartament. The sound of a hushed voice as Akaashi coos and scoops her up barely reaches Bokuto’s ears, as does the sound of Akaashi’s dress shoes on the wooden flooring.

“Kou?” Akaashi calls, most likely having spotted Bokuto’s shoes and keys, abandoned in the living room. Bokuto can’t bring himself to reply, just lays there, blinking at the light.

A few more steps and the door opens further, and Akaashi steps in, still in his coat: it’s a cold, snowy evening outside. Bokuto had got to notice that much as he was escorted from the complex to the car by a bodyguard. The bed dips slightly when Akaashi sits beside him, and the scent of his cologne reaches Bokuto’s nose.

“Koutarou.” Bokuto can’t control himself when Akaashi uses his name like that. He turns and looks at him, watches as Akaashi scans his face and _understands_. Words aren’t necessary with the two of them, not after all these years. Akaashi chucks off his shoes, and they clunk onto the floor. He climbs onto the bed beside Bokuto, unbuttoning his coat. He smells of the frosty air outside.

“Bad day?”Akaashi asks, by way of starting conversation.

“Bad life.” Bokuto says, sounding more bitter than he intended. He mentally slaps himself as hurt briefly shows in Akaashi’s face. But then the expression is gone and Akaashi offers him a gentle smile.

“That bad, huh?” Akaashi traces Bokuto’s cheekbone with his finger and cups his face. His hands are cold from walking outside, and Bokuto wonders how many nosy, inconsiderate fans did he have to avoid today. The thought causes the little flame of irritation in his stomach to burn a bit brighter.

Bokuto looks at Akaashi as they lie on the bed, noses almost touching, Akaashi’s hand on his cheek, and feels a tiny bit better. He considers himself incredibly lucky to have these moments. Akaashi’s beautiful, always was and probably always will be, even when he’s old and gray. He’s stuck by Bokuto’s side through the highs and lows, and Bokuto doesn’t have a doubt that the safest place for him, is by his side.

“Tell me,” Akaashi prompts, and Bokuto takes a deep breath.

Then, he begins to speak, words tumbling out, as he empties his heart. He tells Akaashi everything: about the frustration, how overworked he is, about the mysterious - and downright terrifying, for a professional player - pains he’s been getting in his lower back, about the exhaustion that no amount of sleep seems to be able to cure. By the time he runs out of words, he feels a little bit lighter. Akaashi hadn’t interrupted him once, just lay there and listened, stroking his cheek. When Bokuto finishes, Akaashi wordlessly pulls him closer, until Bokuto’s cheek is resting on Akaashi’s chest. He can hear the even drum of the heart beneath. Automatically, Bokuto wraps his arm around Akaashi’s waist, squeezing tight.

“I’m sorry,” Akaashi kisses Bokuto’s hair, and Bokuto opens his mouth to object: what is _he_ apologizing for? He’s everything that’s good in Bokuto’s world. But then, he understands, and shuts up.

“I just need a break away from everything.” Bokuto mumbles, closing his eyes and letting himself get lost in the sound of Akaashi’s heart.

“I can figure something out,” Akaashi says, and kisses his forehead. Bokuto feels his heart somersault at the affection. “But I’m so proud of you, baby. So proud.” Akaashi’s voice dips to a whisper, a musical, soothing sound Bokuto could listen to forever. He tilts his head up and Akaashi leans down, kissing him softly.

Everything cannot be fixed with just a rant and a kiss: Bokuto still has to go to training tomorrow, be hounded by at least one journalist as he attempts to leave his home and perhaps even deal with an argument between his teammates. But Akaashi’s very presence, the fact that he’s there, holding him, is enough for Bokuto to know that everything will sort itself out.

 


End file.
